


I'm Countin' On You (and you got me too)

by lizards



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bantering, But they are so in love, Fluff, Fluffy, H&C, M/M, Protective Illya, Worried!Illya, dumbo napoleon, illya is so done, literally neither of them realize how in love they are with eachother, napoleon is so confused, they kiss n its adorable shhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizards/pseuds/lizards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya isn't worried because that'd mean he cares. Which he doesn't. He doesn't care, he just thinks Napoleon should be back by now. That's all. He will not go after him, because he <i> isn't worried. </i></p><p>(in which illya is protective and worried and napoleon is talented but stupid)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Countin' On You (and you got me too)

**Author's Note:**

> yoooo i deleted my tumblr that had a couple napollya fics on it that people seemed to really dig so i decided to put them here. i gotta new tumblr: geckette. u should probs def follow me and send me prompts there or w/e. this is unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes!

**9:30PM**

 

"I know what you two are doing," Says Johnson Harlie from behind a big wooden desk. "I have security on their way now. Any last words?"

Illya looked over at Napoleon who ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, I find that extremely rude." He sighed and turned to Illya with a look that was showed he was truly offended. "This is the problem with men who sell international secrets. They're all, pardon my french, total assholes."

 Johnson made an offended noise in his throat as Illya nodded in agreement. "Also, too cocky." He turned back to Johnson with a look of detestment. Honestly, how much gel could you put in your hair before it crumbles from chemical abuse? Illya frowned at the man deeply, shaking his head in disgust. "Poor hygiene as well."

 The doors behind them flew open and security guards came pouring into the small office, stumbled head over heels to get at them first. Illya stood from his chair calmly and sized up the group of men. There was four slowly lumbering towards them, hands extended like they were fighting off a rabid dog. Huh. The fight hadn't even started yet.

"Meet outside in twenty?" Napoleon suggested with a smile as he stood and stretched out. "You take care of these goons and I make a run for the shipment?"

Illya grunted in agreement, charged.

**10:24PM**

It had been longer than twenty minutes. Illya was outside the industrial factory leaning against their getaway car, checking his watch every thirty seconds like it would make Napoleon appear. What was taking so long? Not to stroke the already massive ego, but Napoleon was...talented. Was talented the right word to use on someone like him? Illya wasn't honestly sure how to describe him.Napoleon was truly, honestly, American. He was most likely the most American stereotypical man that Illya had ever encountered.He even had the voice from the sitcoms. Sitcoms were terrible. Napoleon was terrible.

Illya checked his watch. Another 30 seconds ticked by.

**11:00PM**

Should he walk in? He was pacing now, running a hole into the ground into the dirt. No. No, he shouldn't.If he had a problem he would have said something over the comms. He would have told Illya, wouldn't he have? Yes, it's fine. Napoleon was fine.

 

**11:50PM**

They were supposed to be back at base five minutes ago. Illya started ignoring Gaby's calls.

**12:02AM**

That's It. That's the end. Illya was done waiting on Napoleon. He was going in there and dragging him back out by his ugly American tie and forcing him into the ugly American car and driving all the way back to the ugly American base and never speaking to him again.

He started towards the door and reached his hand to open it the second it flew open itself. Napoleon stood there, bruises already starting to flourish all over his face and his right eye swelling shut. He was cut everywhere; gashes trickling blood all over his face.

 He smiled at Illya to show off his bloody red teeth and leaned heavily against the door frame. "I may have lied when I told you twenty minutes." He then proceeded to promptly collapse in Illyas arms.

**3:07 PM, NEXT DAY**

Napoleon woke up to a dry mouth and his head aching. He rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning lowly in his throat. Damn, he had made some _bad_ choices last night. First there was the fella with a sword, then the large man with fists that looked like a mallet, and finally a woman that was far more quick than Napoleon could have dreamed of being. She did not like the joking sexual innuendo. She did not like him. 

 "Solo?" Came a familiar and distinctly russian voice.

 Napoleon cracked his eye open and frowned at Illya. He looked exhausted; there was deep dark black circles under his eyes and his blond hair was a silly frizzy tuft on top of his head. He was leaning deep into his seat with his legs spread open, but sat up at the speed of light.

 "Peril." Napoleon says with a croak, leaning up on his elbows. "What are you-"

 Illya was suddenly standing and leaning over Napoleon, his hand firmly placed on his chest and pushing him back down to a lying position. "You need rest, cowboy."

"Um," Napoleon's brain must have short circuited in the time he slept since he was currently unable to think of anything besides the warmth of Illyas hand. "Yes. Okay." Wow. _Incredible_. Honestly, that was probably his wittiest thing he's said yet. Truly impeccable. Deserves awards, if he's being modest.

 The bed sheets crinkled loudly through the silence as he laid back down. Illya's hand silently went up to Napoleon's face, twisting into something ugly and angry. His fingers ghosted over the cuts and brushed softly against a dull sore spot on his jaw. He visibly hesitated for a moment before feathering his fingers over Napoleon's bottom lip lastly, and now Napoleon's mouth was dry for a completely different reason.

 "Why didn't you-" Illya pulled his hand back and pressed his lips into a firm line. "Why did you not call for my help?"

Napoleon bit his tongue. Damn. He knew this was coming. He slid further into his bed and fixed his eyes on a panel of roof, biting the inside of his cheek. "I didn't need it."

 Illya snorted. Napoleon thinks it's stupid that he wants to smile at the sound.

"Yes, you did."

"That's awfully presumptuous of you, sir. I may inform you that I am in fact very independent and your brute charm won't work on me-"

"Solo." Illya sounded serious. _Ugh_. Serious Illya was always difficult. "Look at me."

 Napoleon sighed deeply and slid his eyes to Illya's. Fuck those blue eyes, honestly. They stared into Napoleon's soul. "You must trust me, Solo. If you don't I do not understand how we can work together-"

"Stop." Napoleon says and gets up again, panic spreading through his chest. Illya's eyes went wide and he put his hand back on Napoleon's chest. "

"No." Illya ordered. "You have to-"

"No" Napoleon says with a mean twist in his mouth. "No. This is where you say I don't trust you and you don't want to work with me." Wait. No. Thats not what he was supposed to say. "No, I mean, I trust you. I do. I had the situation under control-"

" _Control_?!" Illya slammed his hands down on either side of Napoleon's body and leaned into his face so close it nearly made him go cross eyed. "You call three broken bones a concussion under control?" 

"Well, when you say it like that it sounds bad."

" _Solo_." Then, Napoleon did the completely stupid thing of leaning forward and closing the gap between their lips. It was a dry, closed-mouth, barely there press of lips that was more of a peck then a proper kiss. Napoleon panicked and leaned back feeling his heart jump into his throat. He tried his best not to laugh at the slack-jawed stupid look on Illyas face, but he's pretty sure he smiled a little.

"Bed time for me, Peril. Goodnight." Napoleon laid back down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to slow his thumping heart. "Close the door on your way out and tell Gaby I miss her surly attitude."

It took a minute before the weight on the bed shifted and Illya finally started to leave, but right before he closed the door Napoleon could have sworn he heard Illya say, "I trust you too, cowboy." If Napoleon dreamed of russians waiting at his bedside, he sure as all hell didn't tell anybody.


End file.
